Melting Snow
by Stonehill
Summary: It's a spur of the moment decision, the one that happens without any thought process taking place before he acts, the blink of an eye and he's already moving. Izuku places his palm over the flame, trusting Todoroki to extinguish it as he goes so he can rest it against the palm of Todoroki's hand, filling the negative spaces between his fingers.


A snow flake falls.

It breaks the light of streetlamp, a chill forecast of winter breaking the warm glow, a memory of summer's light, and casts a tiny, insignificant shadow across the path. Others follow.

Izuku watches it from his dorm room, covers dragged from his bed to create a comfortable seat by the window. The cold creeps in through the glass and settles over his right side, clammy, but the mug of tea in his hand is a protective force that helps him forget.

He should be proud of himself. He should feel it like a hot fire licking away at his insides; the knowledge that he'd come out of a battle with only minor scratches. Everybody had returned; there'd been no kidnappings, no deaths. The Villain League had taken a blow and the tides are turning, at last, but…

A shadow of frost, much larger than the snow flakes, treads across the grounds, straight shoulders and matted hair. Todoroki Shouto pauses in his walk to glance up at their dorm rooms; only a few lights are on, the faraway warmth of familiarity and safety. They cast a faint glow across his face, but he's too far away and the glow has lost its warmth.

And Izuku, surrounded by his own gloomy thoughts, hidden away for once, studies the boy unseen. It's an old habit, one that very often has been discarded for direct and impertinent questions, courage voiced on a growing foundation of confidence. Though, tonight that confidence is nowhere to be found.

When he closes his eyes he sees flames, blue and red intermingling.

Worry and guilt churns in his stomach, and for a moment Izuku hesitates.

He's not sure he'll be able to understand. There are too many unknown variables, but something is making Todoroki and the villain Dabi circle back towards each other. An inkling fear, a suspicious reason is sneaking into the back of his mind, and as always, Todoroki keeping away from the rest, saying very little and freezing the air around him as if to protect himself from heat and warmth of friendship suggests only one thing…

This comes back to Endeavor.

As Todoroki's shadow vanishes out of sight, Izuku leaves his perch by the window.

It's not that he knows what to say, or if he's allowed to say anything once he arrives. But he's the only one who knows, the only one who might grasp the gravity of the confrontation, and so he can't just sit still.

He shouldn't.

Early December flurries are a rarity in Tokyo, a dream of children who grow up to wistfully long for snow ball fights and skating competitions. Izuku remembers a couple of such winters, and though those memories, as many others, are full of burning skin and the bright shock of explosions, he's looking forwards to what his fellow hero students will make of the weather.

There's so much potential in their quirks after all.

The idea lightens his mood, an old habit of analyzing the possibilities that would arrive at the change of weather. Uraraka-san might be one of the more formidable foes in a snow ball match, and Yaoyorozu-san could easily supply them all with skates, though Izuku doubts that would be a wise move for him, inelegant and too blunt.

On the other hand he could do quite a lot of damage if he supplied One for All to a snow ball match, so he'd be able to do plenty of control practice with it.

And there'd be so much potential for fun in Todoroki's quirk; even if it wouldn't be cold enough for the lakes to freeze over he wouldn't have trouble doing that in the weather's stead. There's also the possibilities of hot tea and—

The memory of blue flames intrude, eyes full of a calculated hatred, not the same, but still so familiar. Dabi's eyes had seen all, where Todoroki's had only seen one thing.

They're not the same, and yet…

Izuku shakes his head, dropping the analysis, and glances around.

Does he know where Todoroki would go in these sorts of situations? No. It's not like Kota, who had a specific place to go, some hideout. Todoroki merely seeks solitude; Todoroki regresses and falls back into himself, forgets that the people around him are a warm comfort that can ease bad memories.

Blue light flickers and dies.

It catches his eye just to his left, and he freezes, heart pounding, memories still fresh, fear a chill in his veins.

He swallows and then clenches his hand, as he turns to face unfamiliar fire.

Except it's not unfamiliar at all.

A red flame manifests down a path to his left, growing and then diminishing, illuminating a familiar silhouette at the end of the path, on the top step of a staircase. It twists and turns, weakening in power and then flaring up, blue.

"If I remember correctly blue flames are supposed to be the hottest," Izuku says before he can stop himself, leaning closer to have a better look.

He doesn't remember moving down the path, too curious, but the temperature is vastly different here, like summer, and it's too easy to forget he was cold a moment ago.

Todoroki's hand clenches over the flame, quickly killing it, surprise hastening his movements. And still Izuku can feel the heat radiating off of him, like he has a bad fever.

"Yeah," comes the belated reply, and Todoroki leans back, shoulder nearly brushing his legs and fringe falling aside, an ugly reminder of an uglier childhood vaguely coloring under the glow of far away street lamps. There's a quiet desperation in his gaze, one Izuku hasn't seen in months, but he meets him unwaveringly anyway.

The snowflakes evaporate in the air around them, cold fading in an environment that's too hot.

"Your lights were off."

"You noticed?"

A nod, and Todoroki turns back to look out across the fields of forest surrounding Yuuei. "I thought you'd be sleeping."

Izuku smiles, though it goes unnoticed. "Well, I'm certainly ready for sleep," he says, yawning and straightening so he can more easily maneuver around Todoroki to sit down at his side.

"So go back."

"I'm good."

He gets a sour, unimpressed look for that, which states all too clearly that he isn't fooling anybody anymore.

"At least I didn't break any bones this time," Izuku counters, feeling a little defensive against the silent criticism. "Besides, you took as much of a beating as I did."

His eyes catch on the bandages hiding warm skin, sweater pulled up to show them off, to better let go of heat, to ensure it doesn't burn. Beside him Todoroki says nothing, merely sighs and opens his hand again, flames licking gently at his skin.

They're a beautiful orange colour, red and yellow, so warm, a tiny summer sun in the palm of Todoroki's hand. And then the blue steadily begins to consume the warmth, turning it from gentle heat to something more blazing, something dangerous.

It's a spur of the moment decision, the one that happens without any process taking place before he acts, the blink of an eye and he's already moving. Izuku places his palm over the flame, trusting Todoroki to extinguish it as he goes so he can rest it against the palm of Todoroki's hand, filling the negative spaces between his fingers.

"Midoriya…"

But Izuku ignores the reproachful tone and the look that follows.

His fingers hang lax between Todoroki's, a passive comfort that has his heart pounding in his chest. But he thinks that right now the warmth he can provide is very different from the memory of scorching blue flames that Todoroki is invoking.

"Endeavor was using these flames against the Nomu," he comments lightly, taking the first step along his plan towards a solidifying goal. "It burns up to six-thousand degrees celsius and it seems to be one of the only real things that works against them—"

He stops himself abruptly, trying not to analyze their future.

Too many variables, too many insecurities. Shigaraki knows what he's doing these days and it's all they can do to stay alive just fighting what he throws at them; and then there are their own weaknesses, gaps in their defenses triggered by unexpected surprises; they are only first years…

Todoroki's fingers tighten around Izuku's, catching him off guard, and when he looks back at him, he's smiling, eyes dancing with quiet admiration. "Keep talking."

Izuku opens his mouth. Closes it again.

"There was somewhere you wanted to go wasn't there?"

The hand holding on to his is warm, too warm still to not feel like it's overheating. And around them the snowflakes melt, as if they are protected by a hidden world of scorching summer.

Izuku's gaze travels down to Todoroki's hand; now it's his hand that hangs limp; passive, healthy right hand, the one he hadn't been allowed to sacrifice, against pale skin that has probably tasted as many burnings as he in a childhood that passed too quickly. There is strength here and returning life, and he doesn't want to destroy that fire, but he has more he wants to say, more he believes is okay to say.

"Right," he murmurs, considers his words one last time and changes the order of how he was going to say it, starting with his conclusion. "Fire gives life."

"Huh?"

"Hear me out," he says, suddenly feeling an urgency in his veins, fingers tightening around Todoroki's hand as he turns to him on top of the stairs, turns towards warmth and friendship he's experienced for months, for nearly a year. "In measured temperatures fire doesn't destroy everything in its path. It's what built our civilization and we rely on it to this day, right? And you've shown countless times how fire can be used to protect, how it can be used in conjunction with speed and strength and ice so it doesn't harm, doesn't melt or kill, but protects."

He's probably too close, gets too carried away as he holds Todoroki's gaze, but this person has never scoffed or doubted his plans, this person listens and supports like a network of strength all coming back to just an individual.

But this individual, this beautiful supportive person, is still caught by ghosts, trapped in their grasp as they refuse to let him go. And every time Todoroki turns his back on them, every time he begins to forget their power, they reach out and take hold of his wrists and ankles, clouding his eyes to the bright vastness of his own future.

And like with Eri, Izuku wants to free him of those ghosts entirely.

"It's that kind of fire that suits you," he says, hoping his words are right. "We fight people all the time; villains are humans after all. People break. They fall apart. They hurt themselves."

His words draw their eyes to his left hand; the one he'd broken over and over and over again, just for his words to reach a friend, and then a little boy, until he'd nearly lost it forever.

Now he clenches it gently and holds it up, strong and enduring, even as scars cut into his skin. "So we have to treat them with care; that's our job as heroes."

At his side Todoroki exhales, fingers tightening, and there's an aching loneliness in the movement that steals Izuku's breath away.

Todoroki Shouto is always beautiful.

"It's beautiful," Todoroki says, and Izuku jumps unnoticeable at the similarity, hand holding him in place, "the world you envision. One where heroes don't need to use their quirks to the point of making them deadly weapons. One where we can relax our guard and develop in a way that causes others to smile. But you have a huge obstacle ahead of you to reclaim that world."

Izuku swallows thickly. He can see the shadows, the ghosts that take hold of Todoroki with more fierceness than before, twisting his ideals and turning his path to something more destructive.

It's not unusual that they would disagree and he can't assume people will just follow his ideas because he has the courage to speak them now but...

"But I want to see that world as much as you do," Todoroki continues, he catches Izuku's gaze, a smile lingering in the corners of his mouth, before he looks out across the valley. "A world where peace reigns as a symbol of hope, rather a world where we all have to bow to chaos. So I'll fall to their level if I have to, to protect that vision of yours, but I'll counter their cruelty with precision and skill rather than aimless destruction."

Izuku nods and finds a smile.

"Todoroki-kun, you're a very kind person," he says, and turns their hands upside down so he can rest his ruined palm on top of Todoroki's. No matter how flattering his words, his support, his unquestioned trust, Izuku hopes he won't become a ghost on Todoroki's back, a chain around his ankle.

And he nearly laughs at the incredulous expression, the question of insanity on Todoroki's face.

"You're right," he says instead. "We need to grow stronger if we're to defeat those more powerful than us. But, please —"he exhales a breath on the plea, holding his gaze, mismatched and full of possibility "—don't forget the strength in kindness and balance for the passion of fire."

He tilts his head to catch Todoroki's attention again and finds a smile, finally. "And perhaps cooling down a little is in your best interest as well."

Confusion, as if he doesn't know what Izuku is referring to, spreads abruptly across his face, and it's a little amusing, definitely endearing.

"Your temperature is really high right now," he explains, and glances in the direction of the snow piling up outside their little circle of midsummer warmth.

Todoroki starts, realisation hitting, and he pulls back quickly, hand retreating. Izuku lets him go, fingers flexing, uncharacteristically loose after exposure to all that heat.

Frost dances in the air, icy crystals catching the light of the stars in hues of blue and green, calm and peaceful, and the chill settles back in, though not nearly as cold as it ought to be.

Izuku exhales on a laugh, quiet and fascinated. "You know," he says, and leans back, palms resting on the path behind him, the cold of the stone a chill contrast to the hand that had rested in both his, "you never cease to amaze me."

There's a pause at the unexpected compliment and Izuku feels the awkwardness in the air, a jitter in his chest, the urge to run away. But Todoroki doesn't let him, smiles a small smile of confidence and rests his chin in his hand.

"That's my line, I think," he says softly, eyes never wavering, balance and magnetism, drawing him in.

And Izuku feels a blush crawl up his neck to sting his cheeks.

"Ah, no, I mean," he backtracks, embarrassed, hands flailing. "Your control over your quirk has really improved, but even even when you're not thinking about it or intended it, you use it to look out for others."

The smile vanishes and Todoroki frowns, nearly confused. "What are you—"

"No, see," Izuku says, leaning forwards again. "I don't know if you've noticed, but even when you cooled down it's still kind of warm here, right? And— and that time in the arena..."

He glances aside, hesitating to voice the thoughts and ideas running rampant in his mind. "That time in the arena," he repeats, more softly, hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. "I got carried away and broke my arms. And I don't think you were paying attention, but you created a cast for my right arm. And I think that saved it."

All Might says a hero's first instinct is to meddle, that those who become great heroes always have stories about them from their youth where they simply couldn't stop their bodies. But it's not as simple as all that, Izuku thinks. Instinct is one thing, impulse another. The will to help where you can, the kindness to not stop and think about whether or not a situation proves disadvantageous. Getting angry when you couldn't come to the aide of others fast enough.

That's the kind of hero Todoroki is going to become. That he already is.

"Thank you."

Warm appreciation colours his tone, affection a smile on his lips and a tightness in his chest that he can't quite hide. But warmth has a way of spreading, infiltrating our bodies when it is shared and Todoroki's face lights up in a smile full of tenderness.

And Izuku can see the way his muscles relax just enough, breath ghosting past parted lips, and knows he did the right thing to meddle.

And with calm comes mischief, subtle and mellow, and Todoroki nudges him with an elbow. "I won't go that easy on you next time."

"As if you were going easy on me then," he retorts with comfortable ease. He gets to his feet and brushes off his hands before offering Todoroki his left. "Come on, you can't keep melting the snow around here or Kacchan will throw a fit in the morning."

"Why?"

Izuku smiles with renewed amusement. "Because you didn't melt the entire path to school."

Which gets him a snort, and a warm hand in his, no hesitation left.

"Well, what would be the point in easing the way of your rival?"

"None," Izuku says. "Unless you're trying to gain an ally instead."

And maybe unsurprisingly he's gifted with a smile and then a spluttered laugh for that comment, and Todoroki nudges his left shoulder into Izuku's on their way back, so he doesn't feel entirely as cold anymore.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


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